


Consumed

by Hyperspacial



Category: Love Island (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Drowning, Gen, Horror, Scary, Thriller, mention of shredded cheese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27516247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyperspacial/pseuds/Hyperspacial
Summary: Inspired by this tumblr post: https://bubblybabynailpolish.tumblr.com/post/634513758119657472/physically-im-still-in-the-united-states-but   I got really fixated on the idea of a horror short story taking place in the villa. So thus the idea of mosswall!Henrik was born.  This is a """scary""" short story where henrik is a monster. Henrik feeds you to the villa moss walls ASMR.
Relationships: Bobby McKenzie & Main Character (Love Island)
Kudos: 7





	Consumed

Noah’s snoring echoes around in your head. Or maybe the echo is just Lottie. 

You roll onto your other side, grimacing as you come nose to nose with Bobby. His breath is hot and sour in your face as he breathes open mouthed into your face. You wince, considering waking him up, then decide against it. In the time it takes to decide, another blast of rank air hits your nose. The boy is cute, but his flailing in bed, drooling all over every surface, and sweaty feet were not. You recoil back, sliding out of bed.

The bedroom’s too dark to see who’s in bed and who’s not, but for the most part it looks like all of the beds are full with the requisite blanket lumps. Padding across the floor, you try to make it to the hallway as quietly as you can. One you get down the hall, you don’t bother to tiptoe anymore. 

Downstairs, the soft hum of the villa is the only sound below the rustling of your clothing and fall of your feet. It’s peaceful in a way that the world can only be past midnight, and a cursory glance at the clock in the hallway confirms it to be 3:08am. As you enter the kitchen, a mechanical whirring sound makes you jump. The mounted wall cameras all swivel to face you. You hadn’t realized they made sound- the villa always sounded so boisterous and full of life that the whirring was drowned out completely. You can’t decide if this sudden silence, this absence of life, is comforting or terrifying.

Rather than turn on the harsh overhead light, you flick on the spotlights, trying not to chase away what little sleepiness you had. It doesn’t work. Opening the fridge in defeat, you catch a shadow dart across your peripheral vision. Your head snaps to the left before you can process, squinting into the dark with a rising sense of panic. You’re being dumb, you know that, but your suddenly pounding heart doesn’t.

Turning back to the three cartons of eggs and countless half-drank bottles scattered about the communal refrigerator, you retrieve a bag of shredded cheese and retreat to the sink. Crouched over to let any particles fall in, the cheese in your palm calms the panic. That is until you clearly see a figure dart from the darkened hall into the living room. Catching yourself and preventing a scream, you drop both the package and the clump of cheddar into the sink.

“Hello?” You whisper. Obviously no one answers, so you walk into the hall, turning the lights on behind you. In a normal voice, with a now amused grin on your face, you say “who’s up?”

There isn’t any movement in the living room when you stand in the archway. The figure clearly went into this room, but as you reach in to turn on the light you become less and less sure that it’s a harmless fellow islander who also couldn’t sleep. A prank, perhaps. But not an accident. 

The light flashes on and Henrik is standing behind one of the sofas, facing you. He doesn’t wince or even blink when the room fills with light. You let out a relieved laugh.

“You scared me a little. What are you doing up so early?”  
Henrik doesn’t move, staring at you without moving. An uneasy feeling starts to grow in your gut.

“I couldn’t sleep. Dunno what’s worse, Noah and Lottie’s duet or Bobby’s morning breath…” You pause, then laugh uncomfortably at your own joke. Henrik still doesn’t move. It’d look like he didn’t know you were standing there, if not for his wide eyes boring into you.

All at once, Henrik vaults over the loveseat, his joints cracking loudly as he hits the floor hands first and pushes himself up to a bowed standing position. You recoil back, now hitting the doorframe as Henrik scuttles towards you. When he reaches you, he stands up back to his full height. 

Now that he’s so close, he seems to be glowing. That’s not it. The light is collecting around him in a halo, making him appear fuzzy. He is fuzzy, in a way, because as you look closer you notice tiny bumps spread across his skin. They’re oddly shaped, and heavily concentrated towards the sides of his body, thinning out of the front of his arms and legs. The first word to come to mind is ‘spores’. 

Glancing up to see if the odd bumps have covered his face, you notice how strange he looked. You hadn’t realized from across the room, but his pupils were so tight that they appeared to be a pinprick, lost in the shifting emerald of his iris. The green seems to shift. His lips are clamped shut so tightly that his jaw sticks out even more than usual, but his adam’s apple bobs as if he’s swallowing repeatedly. It doesn’t stop, it’s the only thing on him moving, just swallowing over and over and over again. 

“Henrik, you’re scaring me-” the remaining rational part of your mind suggests that maybe he’s sleepwalking. That thought is quickly dispelled when his right arm shoots out and grabs your forearm. His palm feels fuzzy against you. There’s no warmth of skin, just soft, spongey moisture. Your head drops slowly, horror plain on your face as you try to understand how the sensation of him holding your arm felt positively inhuman.

You can’t see the underside of his palm, but the outside of his hand looks normal, save for the small bumps. As you look back up slowly, you gather your courage and whisper “Henrik, please let go.”

The bobbing of his Adam's apple stops, and you don’t have time to process before he’s yanking you back. Even Rahim or Gary, the buffest guys in the villa, would have some kind of struggle lifting your weight. But Henrik drags you across the room with ease, pulling you down towards the ground as he moved crouched, with his left hand on the ground. 

He scuttles over the couch with ease, your face and arms protest the rug burn produced as he drags you across the carpets and then cushions. Your shouts of protest don’t stop your body from dropping off the back of the couch. He’s still pulling, and you can’t find your feet. Suddenly the solid pull of his impossible strong hand releases, and he’s instead pushing your collapsed body across the carpet with both hands. The left palm feels just as spongy as the right. 

When he stops pushing, you pause for a second, breathing hard. Your back is against the living room wall, and Henrik is standing in front of you, boxing you in. You look up at him, he doesn’t even spare a glance at you. Despite the sudden silence of the villa save for your ragged breathing, Henrik didn’t make a single sound. Seemingly no one heard your shouting or the ensuing scuffle, and you immediately try to remember which islanders are light sleepers. Who would be the most likely to wake if you stomped on the floor, or even screamed. Maybe screaming was warranted- Henrik was clearly on drugs or out of his mind. 

It suddenly strikes you that you hadn’t heard the buzzing swivel of the wall cameras. A rapid glance at all three showed them still trained on the space besides the doorway, where you were standing moments ago. But they were supposed to follow your movements. You’d moved. Why didn’t they follow you?

Henrik’s staring straight ahead, into the moss wall a foot from his face. You remembered noticing petting the wall when you’d first arrived in the villa. That first night. Lottie pointed it out as you walked through the villa room to room.

“D’ya reckon that’s real? A proper wall of moss?” She’d asked. You’d walked over and ran your hands up and down it. The wetness and squishy yet firm texture confirmed it. You’d announced it was real, and Hope and Lottie both came in to run their fingers across it. 

As fun as a decor choice as it was, you hadn’t thought about it since that first night. That was until Henrik entered the villa and joked that he should water it. He’d taken up watering the rest of the villa houseplants, but the moss wall seemed to water itself. Or at least, it never got any browner than the bits that were already in it. Henrik’d had been thrown into crisis the day before Lucas got sent home, when Lucas had examined the peace lily sitting in the kitchen and announced that all the plants were plastic planted in actual potting soil. Henrik had loudly shouted, “you mean to tell me I’ve been watering plastic decorations?!” Everyone had a good laugh and then pointed out that the moss wall was definitely real. Henrik had complained that the only real plant in the villa didn’t need him to take care of it. You had forgotten about the exchange, a rather mundane gaff lost amongst a sea of drama.

The Henrik standing before you clearly wasn’t that same man. 

From the ground, you shout, hoping to startle Rahim or Priya awake, “Why did you do that? That bloody hurt. Get the fuck away from me.” Henrik didn’t react. You begin to put your arm and shoulder between the gap of Henrik’s shin and the wall, attempting to slip past him. But as you brush against his leg your skin crawls at the horrid, cloying texture. No matter how you pushed your torso against him, his leg was a pillar you couldn’t squeeze through. Panic flushes through you in earnest as you realize there’s no space to get out, he’s standing too close. You could try to crawl through his legs, but the thought of his bristly skin closing in on both sides of you was just enough to discourage an attempt. 

Instead you sat like that, trying to catch your breath, for a few minutes. You tried shouting at him more, you tried banging on the floor with your fists and screaming for the islanders upstairs, but nothing changed. He remained above you, unmoving and far too close.

After what seemed like an eternity, you shakily stand up, straining to not make contact with him or the wall. The soft moss grazes your back anyway, and the hysteria that raced through you at that feeling couldn’t be justified. It was just moss.

But it was just moss in the same way this was just Henrik. Once you stood up fully, you swallowed and steel yourself. 

“Henrik. Move. I want to go back to bed,” you say, as firmly as you can muster. Your resolve melts away as he stops swallowing. After a beat, his miniscule pupils swivel down to meet your eyes. 

“Henrik-” you start to say, voice wavering, but his hands are suddenly on your shoulders. They’re wet and squishy and your skin crawls, but that’s the least disturbing part. The moss grazing you sends shivers across your back as Henrik begins pushing you against the wall. You’re crying and you don’t understand why just yet.

But then you do, because as he continues pushing, there’s no firmness of a wall behind the sheet of moss. The squishy plant just accepts your body, molding to your skin as he continues bearing down. You try to step away from the wall but your left foot, which had been pushed completely flush with the wall, doesn’t move. Or it does move, but it’s as if your calf has been conjoined with the wall behind in, and the pull of your foot sends a shooting pain up your leg.

“Please, please don’t do this, stop. Henrik- no-” your pleas fell on deaf ears. Even though Henrik’s eyes were focused on you, he continues pushing you backwards at the same slow rate. 

Your other leg connects with the wall and you thrust your torso forward, accepting your face being smashed against his bare, fuzzy chest as long as it doesn’t have to touch that awful moss wall. Your hips tether you to the wall, though, seemingly accepted into whatever nightmare is occurring. 

Then your back is shoved against the wall and you feel your spine tingling, both being pushed against but accepted by the mossy decoration. Your left leg has been completely consumed by the moss, and your hips and stomach are mostly covered, but still the firmness of the wall behind the decoration doesn’t come. There’s no way the decorative moss piece could be this deep. And yet.

Henrik is still pushing your shoulders back and you try to shake your head as you feel the back of it connect. As soon as it does, your head is held in place. Loud sobs wrack your body and you realize you’re completely immobile- connected to this monster at the waist, shoulders, legs, and now head. 

Henrik’s face has no emotion other than that clenched jaw and constantly swallowing. He doesn’t react as the moss consumes your arms and creeps up your sides. You continue sinking deeper into the wall, but do so painfully slowly. You can’t run, you can’t move, you can’t breathe. The lower half of your body completely disappears into the moss, and it now covers your ears, muffling your own screams. All you hear is the spongy rustling of the plant as it compresses, and the blood pounding in your head. 

The moss is tickling the sides of your face now, and you have no movement. You’re not even sure if you’re breathing. Tears still run down your face but it doesn’t matter, everything is moist. Your skin crawls and tingles and you can’t beg for mercy as the moss attaches to your chin, holding your jaw in place. 

At some point Henrik dropped his arms, no longer pushing. You hadn’t noticed when, but it wasn’t as if you had shoulders to push on anymore. You barely had a face, the plant creeping into the corners of your eyesight as it crawled higher on your face. It wasn’t climbing, though, you’re still sinking. 

Henrik’s face is the last thing you see before the moss completely engulfs your vision. His human but fundamentally inhuman face. The feeling of cold air on the tip of your nose is the last sensation outside of the creeping, pulsing, wet tingling. 

And then even that is gone.


End file.
